


well, i woke up in mid-afternoon

by alexmanes



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Future Fic, Humor and Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexmanes/pseuds/alexmanes
Summary: History repeats itself. (Or, Isobel brings enough bagels for everyone.)





	well, i woke up in mid-afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vincerets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vincerets/gifts).



> Made for Day 7 of Alex Manes Appreciation Week 2019, which focuses on the future. This is dedicated to my friend Vikki, who came up with the idea, let me play around with it, and could probably use a pick-me-up right about now. Also, she's a really good friend. 10/10, would recommend. Title comes from _Mrs. Potter's Lullaby_ by the Counting Crows.

Alex wakes to feather-light kisses across his chest, a car obnoxiously honking outside, and half of his ass hanging off Michael’s too tiny bed.

Judging by the warm sunlight drifting through the blinds, he’s slept well into the afternoon. It’s not a problem given the fact he has nowhere else to be, but he mentally curses himself for letting his sleep schedule fly so far off the rails. Then again, the blame isn’t his entirely; it’s not his fault Michael looks like a snack and a half at all hours of the night.

When the honking continues, Alex attempts to rub the sleep from his eyes. He presses his palms so hard against his eyelids that he swears he sees stars beneath them, dancing and pulsating across his vision. Luckily (or unfortunately, in Alex’s case) the honking intensifies outside and knocks him into his senses. It serves as a stark, unwarranted wake-up call that ruins an otherwise perfect moment. Michael’s got one arm lazily sprawled across his chest and is leaving a trail of kisses on every inch of naked skin he can latch onto. He rolls his tongue across the marks he left just hours ago and has the nerve to freshen up a few, but that's the least of Alex's problems. It doesn't take very long for him to feel what he assumes to be Michael's morning wood, which is pressed up against Alex's thigh and sends a familiar warmth pooling between his own legs.

Yet the honking is still a problem, still blaring in the distance, and Alex dimly wonders what the hell is going on.

“Is that my car or yours?” Alex mumbles, voice thick with grogginess. He moves to sit up, but Michael’s arm quickly slides around his waist and pins him back down against the bed. For once, he doesn’t feel like fighting back.

“Someone else,” is all Michael grumbles against his neck. He’s clearly as drowsy as Alex and not the least bit interested in getting up, especially now that Alex is awake and half-hard next to him. (Alex attributes that to what he's dubbed the Guerin Effect, because it's downright impossible not to get worked up whenever Michael's by his side. It's as if they're still teenagers sneaking handjobs and make-out sessions in the back of Michael's truck, still spry enough to go at it like rabbits and not immediately regret the body aches that follow alongside the sunrise.)

When Alex relaxes once more, Michael carefully rolls half of his body on top of Alex's and — yeah, Alex was right, that's _definitely_ Michael's cock now sliding between his thighs. For a moment, Alex is tempted to settle back down and allow Michael to finish whatever it is he started. He's not one to complain about morning sex, after all. The hungry look in Michael's eyes tells Alex that nothing else matters in the moment, that it's just the two of them in their own little slice of paradise, and Alex would be inclined to agree if he couldn't hear shouts replacing the obnoxious honking.

"Michael!" Isobel calls out, her tone undeniably cheerful and upbeat. Even though Michael and Alex remain silent, she's far from deterred. "Hello? Anybody home? I have bagels!"

Slumping against Alex in defeat, Michael lets out a deep, long-held sigh. "You think she'd get the message. Is it too much to ask for peace and quiet around here?"

"Apparently," Alex teases. Michael tilts his head up with a scowl, but relents once Alex cards his fingers through Michael's curls. 

"Joke's on her. M'still gonna ignore her," Michael mutters, leaning into the touch.

"I brought Max with me!" Isobel then announces, as if she can hear Michael preparing to tune her out. (And for all Alex knows, she really can. He wouldn't be surprised if she unlocked a fourth power overnight and is now trying it out on her hapless brother. If she could bring her brother back from the dead and explode objects with her mind, eavesdropping on conversations isn't out of the question.)

"You in there, Michael?" Max shouts, following it up with a firm knock on the door. 

Rolling his eyes, Michael pries himself off of Alex. Whatever plans they had for the afternoon have effectively been put on hold.

"Hope you brought a bagel for Alex too!" Michael hollers, already sitting up and reaching for his boxers amid their tangled sheets. 

A shadow suddenly appears on the other side of the window, followed by a scoff from Isobel. "Who do you take me for, Michael? Of course I brought him one. You don't have a working fridge in there and I'm not about to let my future brother-in-law starve."

"Hey!" Michael snaps.

"Thank you, Isobel!" Alex calls, earning a look of betrayal from Michael. "Well, she's not wrong."

Rather than dignify his fiancé with a response, Michael gets to his feet and promptly begins wriggling into his jeans. He does, however, throw Alex's own pair onto his chest and carefully slide Alex's prosthetic onto the bed. Even when he tries pretending to be upset, Michael isn't one to leave Alex high and dry. 

"Love you too," Alex says, finally getting up to follow Michael's lead. 

By the time Michael and Alex come clambering out of the airstream, Isobel has taken to pilfering through Michael's work station and Max is finishing off the last of his bagel. The couple looks halfway put together, but Michael is shirtless and Alex is sporting one of Michael's over-sized sweatshirts. Neither Max nor Isobel are the least bit fazed, simply because this is now the norm for both men. 

"Remind me again: what're you two doing out here?" Max asks through a mouthful of bread and cream cheese. "Something wrong with the cabin?"

"The airstream brings back old memories," Michael answers with a shrug. "Y'know, like all the wild, mind-blowing, epic—"

"Spare me the details about your sex life," Isobel cuts in, nose scrunching in disgust. Setting down a broken radio, Isobel snatches up the paper bag she'd previously discarded and hands it to Michael. "Brunch is served, courtesy of yours truly."

Before Michael can grab one for himself, Alex slips his fingers inside and plucks out the largest of the two bagels. Michael has half a mind to call him out on it, but a glimmer of light reflects off Alex's engagement band when he takes a bite. Michael's features immediately soften, which doesn't go unnoticed by Alex. 

"What?" Alex questions mid-chew. "I've been working up an appetite since last night, Guerin."

When the double-meaning hits the trio, Michael's signature smirk spreads across his lips while Isobel and Max groan in unison. 

"This is them when they're _engaged_ ," Isobel tells Max. "Imagine what they'll be like when they're married."

"No worse than you and Maria," Max quips.

"Or you and Liz," Alex chimes in. "Didn't Sheriff Valenti catch you two fooling around in your squad car?"

All at once, chaos erupts. Max insists that that never happened and claims Maria simply made the rumor up, but Isobel insists it  _did_ happen. She goes as far as saying her girlfriend has video proof courtesy of the Wild Pony's security cameras. Max challenges her to pull up a video that's probably pitch black and too grainy to make out a damn thing, which he says proves his point. Whatever they'd come to tell the couple seems inconsequential now that they've delved into their sibling rivalry. There may be no malice behind the casual disagreement, but both are determined to prove their point through any means necessary. 

"I'm calling Maria right now," Isobel snaps.

"And I'm calling Liz," Max retaliates. 

Michael and Alex, on the other hand, quietly watch with half-eaten bagels and barely contained amusement. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, feel free to drop a kudos or comment, but only if that's what you're into. If you prefer other methods, you can privately hug your phone/computer close to your chest and whisper, "Thank you." I promise I'll hear your kind words, sense your gratitude, and smile to myself. Find me at [alexmanes](https://alexmanes.tumblr.com) if you ever want to discuss Malex!


End file.
